Power of Love
by Devil at Heart
Summary: CH. 3!- Sequel to Get Out Jesse and Never Come Back - Suze is distant. Jesse is hurt. Paul has returned. Yet when Paul invokes the dark forces to alter time and the curse goes wrong, our favourite loooooove triangle is thrown back into the 12th Century...
1. In the Beginning

After many decades, my friends, we have returned. The notorious writing team, Katie and Lolly. Well, fairs fair, it's just Lolly here, because Kate is soooooo lazy *Kate tugs Lolly's hair* but yeh. Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns all the characters you recognize, and I own this plot and everything you don't recognize.  
  
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Prologue:  
  
~*~  
  
Jesse's POV.  
  
A month had crept by since the incident involving that pícaro, Paul Slater. No longer could I look at my Susannah and see her eyes blithe, joyful, smiling. There was a deadness in her emerald irises, a greyness that would never go away. No longer could she look at me with that chaste, innocent love; there was an element of fear whenever her eyes rested upon me. As if I had betrayed her in some immortal way. And judging by what she had said I'd done, she was perfectly right.  
  
Moonlight shone through her open window, and a distorted square was cast across the room, landing on the sleeping from of my Querida. I watched over her from the window seat, my traditional placing, watching her silken curls flutter ever so gently with each breath that she relinquished her immaculate self. Her closed eyes were flickering slightly, but perceptibly enough for me to notice them from my position. I kept my distance from her as she slept. Never would I take advantage of her.  
  
. . . Never again.  
  
I felt tortured. Surely I was not being punished? I regarded myself as a good Christian, and always deemed myself worthy of heaven if it is not to bold as to say. Yet I had been trapped on this earth to pay for my misdeeds. What had I done wrong, so wrong to be condemned to this terrible fate? To have met the woman of my dreams, and to still be so far away from her. Never have I been one to doubt the Lord's ways, but I could never seem to find the logic behind this existence. It settled a profound, steady ache on my heart each time I looked into her eyes, and saw a thousand words in her silence.  
  
Her hand curled a little as she shivered faintly, and I saw her forehead crease. Another nightmare. We were both tortured souls. Slowly, I closed her window and watched her face slacken to its calm, peaceful form. She sank back into her eiderdowns, warm. Yet I was still cold.  
  
My heart had a deadly chill to it, ever since . . . I'd forfeited my life for Susannah. It had been the hardest thing I'd ever done in my whole being. But my love for Susannah had driven me to it. Well, I cannot say that is entirely true, I regret. My own guilt and pain has also contributed to my final decision. It is degrading to remember this, but these components were very real in the situation, shameful as they were. I could not bear to see my Querida in so much pain. For a century and a half, no blood did travel around my veins, not a breath did enter my lungs, and no psychical heartache had I suffered. Yet, the mere sight of Susannah, so woebegone and anguished, shattered my finally beating heart. Oh, the pain was astonishing, absurd. Never in my ghosthood had this affected me so. But the atrocity of this pain was not to be suffered. I could not stand it. I willingly surrendered my life to escape it.  
  
I am a foolish man, do not show me mercy for my selfishness.  
  
Perhaps my felonies were foreseen, and now I am being punished for them. The pain I feel has merely been numbed. It never abandoned me, always there, my past haunting me like no ghost.  
  
The darkness was my only escape. I felt a dark presence stirring deep within me, one that also would never go away. I felt blackened, poisoned. My very heart was chilled. I did not understand why. Nothing physical revealed this. One still would look upon me as a perfect gentleman – if one still could look upon me – and no corrupt words slid from my tongue. Nevertheless, this pollution of my soul stayed, freezing me. Dark and cold . . .  
  
I only saw flashes . . .  
  
Flashes of the duration of this "curse" that I'd been under. I couldn't understand why, which was infuriating. I never was fond of not understanding. I was a curious man, always wishing to know how things were, if this was any justification to Susannah why I would brave "Critical Theory since Plato" – spellbinding book – and this ignorance pained me. Only flashes did I see, of how it had been to be cursed. My memory had been modified so I would not evoke on my actions. However, the heaviness I underwent led me to believe that I had not been in the least honourable, and certainly not if what Susannah told me was true.  
  
And she would never lie about something like . . . that.  
  
A brave man I am, and I still cannot utter that sinful word . . . Rrr . . . no. It is too unclean to say, save simply thinking it.  
  
All I could see myself doing was seeing Susannah through furious, cold eyes. They were my eyes. How I could view her in such a way, it was unfathomable to me. The fact that I had hurt severely. My love . . . mi querida . . . I had loathed her . . .  
  
Things like these destroyed me not to understand.  
  
I wish that the past would return. Before all of this "curse" business, of course. Before Paul Slater, yet, no. I still wanted that kiss to happen between Susannah and I, the one in the graveyard, that seemed like so, so long ago. That had been the best thing that had ever happened to me, the enchantment, and the passion I felt was all that kept me sane now. It held me here, if only to love my Susannah.  
  
The worst thing was that, I had had the chance also to rid this world of Paul Slater, that bastardo, yet it would have cost me Susannah's life to keep him away. How it would satisfy to leave him Eternal Damnation, where Susannah sent him . . . For him to pay for his sins against all. But Slater is nothing compared to my querida. I would live with a million Paul Slaters to keep Susannah in my tight embrace. Well, living seems to be an overstatement.  
  
Again, I cast a downcast eye on my querida. Oh . . . at that very moment, a horrible, forceful urge came upon me, dragging me from my feet, shoving me over to her despite the vow I'd made. I couldn't defy the powerful force, the desire to play Prince Charming to her exquisite, pure Sleeping Beauty. Alas, I didn't want to defy the desire. I stopped above her bed, sinking by her side and stroking her face gently. I saw her shiver again.  
  
My touch made her shiver.  
  
It never did before, ghost or not.  
  
I stopped, and withdrew my hand, staring at the perfection of her face, the flawlessly shadowed valleys across her skin, her long dark eyelashes, and those lips that called me to them . . .  
  
I bent down slowly, carefully, kissing her softly.  
  
She was so beautiful. Paul did not deserve her.  
  
I did not deserve her.  
  
I have sinned so horribly . . .  
  
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*Winces*  
  
How bad was it?  
  
Regards, MystAngel (for the time being. Soon will fully be written by Devil at Heart.) 


	2. Running Away

Hey, we're back. YAY! THE HOLIDAYS AT LAST! You Americans probably call it your Spring Break, but we are Aussie and damn proud of it. True blues to the death. A death by savage kangaroos, lol . . . So, holidays. That means you will be getting a lot more updates, (we hope) quicker and more frequent. (again, we hope.) Now this is where you come in: REVIEW. Lolly has a new story out! It's called Seven and Deadly. Should be cool, I hope. Check it out?  
  
*Puppy eyes*  
  
Okay. Chapter now. Enjoy!  
  
Lolly and Katie. (Lolly: Kate? When are you actually going to WRITE your story?)  
  
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Suze's POV.  
  
We don't talk much any more. Jesse and I, I mean. There isn't much to say. We know what happened in the past, what was the use of justifying ourselves? Oh, there was love. My God, there was love. But this love, it hurt. Pain of the heart.  
  
Days danced by, vibrant people around me chattering and going on with life. Time stood still for me. I dwelt on those horrible memories, those of the Shadowland and beyond. The aversion that had charred my heart, when I heard Jesse speak to me in his cursed condition. It was pain like no other. The fact that, for that long, there had been no love.  
  
I always thought that our love was, you know? Unconquerable?  
  
I'm so naïve.  
  
'Suze, you home?'  
  
A white hand was being waved frantically before my eyes. I blinked out of my reflections, and saw a very restless looking CeeCee Webb. Even my best friend here didn't make it real. I felt like I still belonged to the Shadow World. Like I'd left behind a very precious, very elite part of myself.  
  
I blinked, and looked at her hazily. 'What do you want?' I asked boredly. We were sitting in World Civ. and Mr Walden was taking his sweet time.  
  
'Suze,' she said with concern, 'You . . . you've been way distant lately. Is stuff all right at home and everything? I mean, well, you can talk to me if you need to get things out.'  
  
Oh sure, CeeCee. Fine. I died last month. I was a ghost. I watched myself drown in my own blood. The guy I loved was under a CURSE and did things that are too horrible to say. And I have to live with the guilt that I sent someone to somewhere that, too, is too horrible to say. Wow, that's off my chest. If only I had the guts to say that out loud to you.  
  
But I just glared. CeeCee looked a little scared, and turned away from me. 'Okay already . . . don't have to go all "grrr" on me, Simon.'  
  
I sighed. This wasn't fair. None of it was. The worst part of it was probably the fact that I had had to explain to Jesse what he did to me. He didn't remember any of it, as far as I knew. He made me tell him everything he did. Everything he said. It was hell, going through it all again. He had no idea what I was feeling. I was so alone in all of this. Since that discussion after we came back from the beach that night, the night that changed everything, we barely said a word to each other. Just the pleasantries, and nothing more. He didn't touch my hand, or kiss me, or, hell, even call me querida!  
  
Every day we grew more and more apart.  
  
And it killed me.  
  
I knew that he was on the verge of moving out.  
  
'Suze!'  
  
The shout startled me. It also pissed me off.  
  
'God, CeeCee, will you shut your bloody mouth for five seconds?!' I roared at her, standing up turbulently. The chair fell loudly from behind me at the force of my action.  
  
Her pale face was erased of all emotion. She was so shocked with my outburst. She just stared at me, her eyes curious, and . . .  
  
Hurt.  
  
For God's sake . . .  
  
I clapped my hand to my mouth. Everyone's eyes were on me in sick fascination. 'Cee, I'm . . . look, I – I'm s – I was . . . I'm sorry,' I stuttered, shaking my head slowly at her. Her expression didn't change in the slightest.  
  
I ran. Again. My whole life is an escape now. There was always a monster I was hiding from.  
  
This time the monster was me.  
  
Running from yourself is a bit difficult when the two of you are kind of attached, you know?  
  
The day was so dark, reflecting my mood to a tee. Cold, dense clouds rolled on outside, blackening the sky, chilling the air. Raindrops fell steadily, ever getting heavier and heavier. Carmel was not commonly victim of this weather.  
  
It was probably my fault.  
  
I bet ya. Everything was my fault lately . . .  
  
I bolted down the hall, towards Father Dom's office, bursting into Reception.  
  
'Miss Simon! Please, Father Dominic said he was busy, please slow down –' the secretary said in alarm, but I didn't care. I ran up to the door, but stopped when I heard the voices.  
  
'Padre, she does not speak to me any more. She can scarcely look at me, let alone in the eye. She quakes at the most delicate touch. I am corrupted, knowing that I have generated her pain. Unbeknownst to her, she tortures me. Makes me relive what I did to her, time and time again. I remember fragments every day. Expressions of her face, sounds of her screams, knives, Maria . . . '  
  
'Who is Maria?' Father Dom interrupted.  
  
I was outside the office. My breath was sparse, but my heart was beating like a drum. It was Jesse . . . this stuff . . . I never knew.  
  
'Miss Simon, I really must insist that you –'  
  
'Shhhh . . . ' I hushed the secretary, who was eyeing me nervously. I could lose her her job, but at that moment, I didn't care. These things that Jesse was saying, they were horrible. It was all news to me, but it was information I would have been better not to know.  
  
But now I knew that it was there, I had to know the truth.  
  
It was like when an old lady gets her first wrinkle. She doesn't want it to be there – it signifies old age. But once she knows it's there, she examines it from every angle, and waits in fear for more.  
  
This was kinda like that.  
  
I know. Wrinkles? Eww . . .  
  
'Maria,' Jesse expressed, 'You know of her, Padre. My cousin? Why I was intended to wed? You do not remember? Her and Felix Diego?'  
  
I frowned. What was he on about? And . . . marrying a COUSIN?  
  
Double ewww!  
  
'I remember Felix, but this Maria woman, I'm afraid I haven't a clue as to what you are talking about,' came Father Dom's reply.  
  
'Oh . . . I imagine I know why that is so. But nonetheless, Padre. The foremost thing I needed you to be aware of, is, well . . . '  
  
I creaked the door open the slightest. The secretary was still staring at me in horror, wondering how I could find a priest talking to himself fascinating. I peaked through the crack in between the door and the frame. I saw Jesse's ghost lean in nervously to Father D.  
  
'What?' Father Dom hissed at him. 'What is this secrecy for?'  
  
Jesse looked around briefly, but thankfully, not at me.  
  
'Paul has returned.'  
  
I stopped breathing all together.  
  
'No!' I whispered, stumbling back and accidentally slamming the door. I presumed that they had heard it, because movement was coming from the office, and the faint glittering of dematerialization could be heard. I stared at my feet, in total and utter shock.  
  
Then the door opened. I looked up and saw Father Dom staring down at me through thin spectacles, looking very appalled. My eyes met his guiltily.  
  
With a squeak, the secretary bounced back to her reception desk, typing madly on the keyboard. He blinked at her, and then laughed. 'Why, um, Susannah, what a pleasant surprise. I was just . . . er, marking reports, and well, you seem to have –'  
  
'Cut the crap, Father Dom,' I said. 'I heard.'  
  
He dropped the act, and lowered his voice radically. 'How much did you hear?' he demanded with narrowed eyes.  
  
Not too priestish of him . . .  
  
'Enough,' I snapped. He sighed, and extended his hand to help me up. I accepted it and followed him into his office. It smelt very musty. There was a bible open on his desk, in the Leviticus section. Oh, I'm just so observant . . .  
  
I slumped into the seat in front of his desk, my heart still going quite fast. It was taking a few seconds to actually register with what was happening. On top of EVERYTHING that was happening, Jesse frigging drops THIS on me!  
  
Paul was not back. It was all a joke. They were messing with me.  
  
Oh yeah, Suze. And Jesse just knew that you would be there at that exact second. Really.  
  
Oh, God . . . what was happening to me?  
  
'Susannah,' Father Dom said, staring at me with a frown. 'What is wrong. I have reason to believe that you aren't acting like yourself –'  
  
'I heard that bit too, Father,' I said, somewhat rudely. I glared at my hands, my head down.  
  
'Oh, dear,' he fiddled with his glasses, and sighed. 'Well, um, Jesse seems to think that you are being very outlying. That you are no longer on speaking terms with him, as such.'  
  
'Great.'  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'I mean it. Great. You know? In the sarcastic way? I say it when I SO don't mean it. Because Father Dominic, my life is not great. I am very lucky that I have a life. This was Jesse's life. I stole it from him. I have to LIVE with knowing that, man. I do. And it hurt, okay? It hurts a lot. That's he's dead because of me.'  
  
I realized that I was on my feet again. I was shouting at a priest. My fists were clenched, and my hair had gone pretty fuzzy from jerking my head furiously at him. Father Dom, I mean.  
  
He blinked at me, stunned. 'Oh my . . . I had no idea that it was this serious, Susannah . . .'  
  
'Nor did I.'  
  
I didn't say that. It wasn't me who said that. It wasn't Father Dom, either.  
  
It was Jesse.  
  
I couldn't look at him. Not after what I'd just revealed. Honest, I hadn't meant to say all the things I had. They'd just flooded out of my mouth, I swear! I was so lost in the pain that I felt, I wasn't concentrating what I was saying, just articulating everything that I had been feeling.  
  
And Jesse had heard.  
  
Father Dom, respectively, stood up, pushed his chair in, and exited his own office. This was one lover's quarrel he definitely wanted to take to the sidelines for.  
  
'Susannah . . .' Jesse said softly from behind me, his hand coming on my shoulder. I winced, and shrugged it off, walking away from him, still not looking at him. It was lucky that my hair was down today. The soft crown curls shielded my face.  
  
My shame.  
  
'Jesse . . . just – just don't, okay?' My voice crackled as I said it. My throat had gone very dry. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. I really couldn't. Jesse was affecting my ability to swallow. My God, was it THAT bad?!  
  
'But Susannah, I –' he began, but I had to stop him before he said anything that I couldn't resist. Something like "I love you." It was all I desired to here, but I knew it would only make things worse, knowing that there was still a chance.  
  
I braved the thing that I feared most.  
  
'Jesse,' I said. Well "said" is such a strong word, you know? Especially when your ability to speak is being hindered by hot Latino ghost who was cursed last month and changed your life forever. And not in such a hot way. I still didn't have the guts to look at him. 'Look. Things have changed, Jesse. You and I both know that. So I think it would be best if . . . well, yeah.'  
  
He was silent. Mustering all my courage, I tilted my head up ever so slightly.  
  
Oh my God . . .  
  
I don't think that I'd ever seen so much hurt on someone's face. It punched me in the stomach, the look that emerged across his features. His lips were slightly ajar in disbelief, down-turned. His jaw was wobbling ever so slightly, like he was biting back words that he knew were worthless. But his eyes. I couldn't stand it. They were the quintessence of a wounded soul. I felt as if I'd stabbed him in the back.  
  
I could feel tears screaming to reveal themselves. I desperately fought them back. It was not the time for them to make their debut. Never the time, but especially not now.  
  
I could feel my heart literally, physically breaking. Fracturing, right down the middle. Heartache isn't a term that should be used sloppily. Only at the most forlorn of times should it be employed.  
  
This was one of them.  
  
I again tried swallowing, but it only resulted in a horrifyingly large lump developing in my desiccated throat.  
  
'Say something,' I choked, stifling a sob. The tears were so near, my eyes burnt.  
  
Jesse, after what seemed like forever, turned his head to the left. I saw the muscles in his neck pull as he strained to do so. His fists were shaking, and his nostrils kept flaring for some weird reason. His jaw was still wobbling.  
  
I bowed my head, my hair sweeping him from my vision. I couldn't look at him in the eye anymore. I took a step back to emphasize my point on the matter. Oh God . . . I called my love for Jesse a "matter."  
  
'There is nothing to say, aside from . . . I understand. This has past your point of tolerance. Yes . . . I will . . . go then,' he trailed off, putting a single hand over his heart. Well, at least he wasn't feeling as much pain as I was. He didn't have a heart that was still beating. So his heart couldn't break. That was the only thing that reassured me. That he wasn't feeling too much pain.  
  
I really have no idea.  
  
Aaah, but if only he did just "go."  
  
'Susannah, please.'  
  
His voice came like a thicket of thorns, carving me into something I didn't want to be. I saw only his feet. 1850 boots, slowly coming toward me. My breathing quickened, and my heart pounded so hard I feared that it would split my chest open. I couldn't take this . . . It was too much for me. I wanted to run again, but respect for the ghost – no, the man – before me, kept me stationary. He deserved closure.  
  
I was very shocked when he placed his large hand on my chest. No, not in a sex-perverted way. It was over my heart. You know? That thing that was smashing as we speak?  
  
I looked up at him abruptly. 'What are you doing?' I asked him, feeling the brunt of the anguish in full measures. My heart's throbbing did not cease, only intensified. My mouth fell open in ache.  
  
'That is your heart,' he said. His hand, usually warm for a ghost, was cold on my skin.  
  
'Duh,' I said, not with my usual sarcasm. It was with profound angst . . .  
  
'Susannah, this is your heart,' he repeated. I was about to go, "You're point?" but he beat me to it. 'Your heart is what matters here. I know the truth, and how you feel. It is one thing to run from me. But it is another to run from yourself.'  
  
Slowly, I tilted my head up to him. 'You don't know as much as you think you do, you know,' I said quietly.  
  
That kind of did it. He removed his hand brusquely, spun on his heal, and promptly began pacing like there was no tomorrow, cursing furiously in Spanish.  
  
'Jesse, stop it,' I muttered jadedly, but was alarmed when he yelled, 'No, Susannah! I will not stop it! This, as much as I regret to inform you, is not about you only. I feel this too! You are not alone in this calamity. You have not been honest with me about what is happening in that complex mind of yours –'  
  
'Oh, and you're as innocent as the day you were born? When the hell did you think that you were going to mention that little fact that Paul was BACK?!' I exploded right back at him, flinging my hands to his shoulders and shoving him right back. And I'm pretty strong, at the best of times. 'He is a psychopath, Jesse! I mean, this was his entire fault. I think that we can both fathom that he's pretty bloody dangerous, and I know that I for one would not like to be caught unaware by said psychopath!'  
  
'Susannah, I'm trying to pro –'  
  
'Oh yes. Fat lot of help that'll do, me not knowing exactly "who" it is that clocks me on the head. Joy, really. Jesse? For an intelligent guy, you're really stupid,' I shouted at him, crossing my arms furiously. Oooh, this anger release was just the distraction I needed. It was going to come out sooner or later. It appeared that "sooner" had been preferred.  
  
Jesse was silent. He just stared. Those hot Latino eyes were searching me for any sign of weakness. Once he found it, he would attack it until he got the truth.  
  
So I couldn't seem weak . . .  
  
'Well, are we done?' I asked.  
  
'Yes,' I replied.  
  
That, I think, was when my heart shattered.  
  
'No,' he said suddenly. 'Know this, Susannah. I will never, EVER, stop loving you. You are apart of me, you are the reason that I exist. I do not know what forces have made you think in such a rash way. But if we cannot survive this, there is no hope for this love.'  
  
'Well, there's no hope,' I said. Tears, STAY! 'Paul won, didn't he? I'm not as strong as you, Jesse.'  
  
He twitched at Paul's name. 'He will meet his well-deserved end, Susannah. You cannot let him win.'  
  
'He already has. You don't realize what he made you do, Jesse. He destroyed every aspect of me that made me "me". I feel like a shell! You . . . you should have just stayed alive when you had the chance. I don't appreciate this life as much as you would have. Seeing you dead, you don't know what it's like. After you were so close . . .' I broke off, not being able to continue. I spun around. 'Go.'  
  
Everything seemed shattered . . . My entire world. I wished that it would just end. I felt so empty.  
  
But Jesse's hand on my arm whirled me around. He pulled me right up against him, terrifying me, as this movement resembled his cursed state so much. I gasped. 'Jesse, come on. This is done.'  
  
He ignored me. I saw calm passion in his eyes. 'It is not done, Susannah. I have never been a forward man. But you need to understand . . .'  
  
With that, he pressed his lips against mine, with such abandon, love, desperation and fear, that I could do nothing but respond. It was all I ever wanted.  
  
But not anymore. After yielding and melting into his embrace, I fought the urge to just let go.  
  
'No,' I said, pushing him back. Away.  
  
He looked confused. 'Susannah, don't do this. This is not you. This is something of Paul. You cannot let him win this! He hasn't won yet, he can be beaten!'  
  
But I wasn't for it. I stopped listening. I ran.  
  
Just like I always did . . .  
  
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DON'T kill me. It'll be peachy in the end, okay? It's a tough road, but TRUST ME. Don't flame. It was a reckless chapter, and I hope I wrote it that way. Tell me what you think is going to happen. Humour a very tired young girl?  
  
Regards,  
  
Disgruntled MystAngel.  
  
(Katie is coming over on Wednesday and will FINALLY write her own chapter. Yay! Cheers for Katie!) 


	3. ‘Susannah, do you not love me any more?’

Okay, I'm high on Diet Vanilla Coke, just so I could stay up late and write this for you, okay? Katie's hotmail and fanfiction isn't working, but we have both worked on this chapter. Kind of. Oh, okay, not that much. But yeah, it's here, isn't it? So be happy!  
  
Purtymanagurl58 – thanks for the cookie. It was lovely.  
  
Holidays are almost over!!! *Cries.*  
  
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Numb.  
  
That was how I felt. This terrible numbness has infected my entire body, all but my mind. My fingers tingled horribly, my skin crept, and my spine had endless shivers rampaging up and down. My arms and legs always felt like lead, and my chest was so heavy all the time, that breathing was becoming more and more difficult for me. But the feeling of numbness, it was appallingly uncomfortable, painful at times.  
  
At least it was nothing compared to when . . .  
  
Oh God, am I EVER going to get over that?  
  
Apparently not.  
  
Why couldn't I just let go of the past? Accept everything that had happened as true, and just move on with life? Why did I have to push Jesse away like that? It felt like someone had stolen a vital half of me, a part of me that I needed to live. I felt half-dead. And trust me, I know what it's like to have no life in me. I've had first hand experience, as you may have recalled. So give me a break. You can't just "get over" your one true love stabbing you callously. Even if he was under some crummy curse. That's not how the game was played.  
  
But everything I did, every thought that darted through my head, always reflected Jesse, or Paul, or the Shadow Lands, or being a ghost . . . or my guilt. I knew that Jesse was right. I was weak, wasn't I? I was giving in. This love that I felt for Jesse had never, EVER died. I'd always been clinging onto it with all the hope that I had, when Jesse was still cursed. Thinking that there might have been a way for both of us to get through this. But now that everything was over, it was hardest of all. My grip on this hope was getting slippery. My hands were blistered and red. And tired. They could only take so much holding on, before they just gave up.  
  
Like me.  
  
Everything was dark out, now. All the Ackermans were in the house, unknowing of the fact that their step-sister/daughter was in emotional turmoil. Joy. I'm so proud. Reeeeally.  
  
I sat tensely on my bed, thinking. I remembered coming home with Jesse after that night on the beach. Where he'd . . . he'd given me his LIFE. After one hundred and fifty years of living as an unseen, unheard, untouched ghost, he'd just thrown it away to me. To show that he loved me. And I realized that, but I couldn't believe that he still did it. It just murdered me all over again to live with the knowledge that he was still dead. Still unseen, unheard, untouched. Every minute of being awake, my head ached with the recognition. I knew it had hurt him to do that. Shit, it had probably been the hardest decision of his life, right? But he'd done it.  
  
And how had I repaid him?  
  
I'd told him to get out, because it was all too hard for me.  
  
I'm a criminal. I should be hung. Burnt at the stake. Anything! God, I sucked so much it was not funny. I was so low, that the earth's mantle looked shallow. Why couldn't I just fade into nothing, and have my essence drift away with the breeze? Then no one would feel anymore pain. I wouldn't be around to bring them down.  
  
I breathed sharply. Breathing. It was something that I constantly had to remind myself to do. Like my lungs did not feel like functioning all the time. My lungs were giving up on me, because I had given up on Jesse.  
  
Because I suck.  
  
Remember?  
  
It seemed like, all my life, I'd been living in a dream. A fantasy, where everything was so simple compared to now.  
  
Shit happens, move on?  
  
All part of growing up?  
  
Not everyone in this world was bad?  
  
Accept the consequences of our actions?  
  
Live life to the full?  
  
True love never dies?  
  
* Ha.  
  
What if your true love was already dead?  
  
What then, huh?  
  
Yeah. Thought so.  
  
. . . Oh, man . . .  
  
My shoulders were very rigid, and the muscles in my neck and back were beginning to hurt from the strain. My lips were very pursed, and my eyes were very misty for some reason. It seemed that after . . . um, everything that had happened, I thought way too much about life and death. And pain. And love. And wondering where the hell God was, if there even was one. What, what was happening to me? WHY was all this crap happening? It just wasn't RIGHT. I did everything I was supposed to as a mediator! EVERYTHING! So, a couple of ribs got cracked, a couple of noses got bloody, so what? Everyone turned out okay. I did what I was supposed to, so what was the DEAL?! Why was I being punished, so cruelly? Someone up there must really hate me . . . I mean, serious. I was a mediator. A freak. I was snared by a forbidden love – in love with a ghost. A psychopath wanted me. And, it was bad enough that I had been killed at a time where my life had taken the ultimate plunge. But to be pulled back into it, that was wrong. Past wrong.  
  
And Jesse thought he was doing me a favour . . .  
  
Was he ever wrong.  
  
Oh, God. I'm getting way suicidal sounding now, aren't I? Great. More opportunity to bum out a whole bunch of other people. No, I have more respect for Jesse than to waste such a precious gift that had been such a momentous sacrifice on his part. I couldn't do that to him.  
  
I could never do that.  
  
. . . Why was I being tortured so?  
  
Nothing made any sense. How did Jesse know that Paul was back? I sent him to . . . well, I don't know where. But it was somewhere bad, if the way Father Dom had reacted was any indication. He couldn't get back from there. Never, could he. So how had he?  
  
Someone *down* must like him.  
  
Shivers rioted over my skin mercilessly. It was horrible. Why did I always feel so terribly cold? Always? Like I was trapped in a prison of ice, immobile, frozen . . . Preserved on forever, so the pain would never stop.  
  
It would really suck to be immortal, huh?  
  
My head felt cloudy still. Like someone had injected a toxic gas into my skull, killing off all the joys of my life. Every time that I had laughed, seemed to die on my lips. Every tear of happiness dehydrated in my eye. Every fresh breath of oxygen was polluted. And every moment with Jesse ceased to exist.  
  
I was partly glad. That meant this pain would stop, right? It would go away? And I wouldn't always hurt? My heart would stop smashing? I would be able to breathe again? Right? RIGHT?!  
  
With that, I buried my face into my hands to stifle the sound of my cries. I hunched over, my whole body going stiff and tense. Air was held in my lungs as I tried to force it out quietly. MY hands were gripping my face so hard that that were shaking. My hair was everywhere, hanging loosely by my face. Lifeless . . . like I wanted to be.  
  
If it meant that I could stop this deception.  
  
. . . My hands were still shaking.  
  
If I had have been holding a glass it would have slipped and shattered by now.  
  
Shaking, so hard.  
  
So . . . so scared.  
  
I didn't know what I was scared of, exactly. Was it that I might have lost Jesse forever? Ha, might of. I had. Paul had seen to that. If he was back, Jesse and I didn't have a ghost of a chance.  
  
Pun intended.  
  
My hands slid forcefully down my face. I released a shuddering breath, and trembled from the cold that I felt. I swung me feet onto the bed, and sat cross-legged.  
  
Still bloody shaking.  
  
Now the pins and needles were starting to invade. All over my body, tiny, excruciating spikes dug into my body, past my skin, and touching something as deep as my soul.  
  
Suze, guess what . . .  
  
. . . You're alone.  
  
All alone.  
  
And this bit's even better Suze . . .  
  
You always were.  
  
NO.  
  
NO!  
  
I had Jesse! Jesse HAD been here! He'd been here for me, supporting me, loving me, looking after me! He had always –  
  
Had.  
  
That's like, a past tense, isn't it?  
  
Meaning it was here, and now it was gone.  
  
Yes, but it HAD existed!  
  
Well, it seemed to me like I would have been better off if it had never been. If I had have stayed alone, maybe none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have been so tortured. But . . . I wouldn't be who am was now.  
  
Did I even like who I was?  
  
Probably not. I was a loser. I didn't know what I had until it was gone. I wasn't strong enough to hold onto the one thing I wanted – and needed – most in my whole life.  
  
Jesse.  
  
Face it, Suze. Paulie's gonna getcha . . .  
  
You know the funniest thing? Ever since that night, on the – well, yeah . . . I hadn't cried. No tears. Not one. Sure, they'd been screaming to come. But they never did. It was like, "what was the point? Add a little more water to the earth, why don't you? We got enough rain, why should I contribute?" And besides, what would a little wetness do? It wouldn't make a difference. Nothing would anymore.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Unless I could go back in time before all of this happened, with no memory of it. Start over. Make everything right again. New. Clean.  
  
And NO Paul Slater.  
  
This was all his fault.  
  
Well, maybe mine a little, even.  
  
But time travel was impossible, right? I mean, sure, Doc went on about his theories with mathematical and scientific paradoxes, and then there was all that stuff with time machines powered by flux capacitors and that Tardis phone-box thingie, but that wasn't real. Time travel was a waste of a thought.  
  
Like so much else.  
  
You know what? My theory is that God hates me. He really does. I think that God is an alcoholic. I do. No, really. He has his favourites, like Kelly Prescott, and he dotes upon them whenever he's in a jolly mood – God is a happy drunk, you see – and gives me the rest of the crap when he's working off his hangover. Or maybe he genuinely thinks it's funny, watching me shake violently while sitting on my bed, thinking about how horrible I am. It's like his daily dose of slap-stick entertainment or something. God hates my guts. He enjoys giving me hell, because I'm not good enough for heaven. You watch, next I'm going to be on a plane with a suicidal bomber. And if I don't get blown up, when the plane is just about to crash, I will grab the backpack instead of the parachute. And if by chance I survive the long fall, I'll be stuck in the mountains and I'll die of frostbite. And if I live through the frostbite – I'll get eaten by a polar bear. Or . . . whatever. Are they meat-eaters?  
  
. . . I don't know, and I don't frigging care.  
  
'Querida . . . '  
  
My heartstrings twanged painfully, and I kind of choked on a gulp of oxygen. Coughing slightly, I turned my head wildly.  
  
There was Jesse. Tall, dark, handsome, serious. He looked even taller for some reason . . . oh yeah, I was sitting, wasn't I? His stance was one of great masculinity, and his features were etched in solemnity.  
  
Joy.  
  
'I don't want to see you,' I said quietly to him, turning my head back to the window. So far away, the ocean . . . it was crashing violently. Water colliding, producing wild, foamy sea spray. Dark, deep, grim, vehement.  
  
But so silent beneath the surface . . .  
  
I was like the opposite of that, wasn't I?  
  
I heard Jesse's ghostly footsteps echo dully as he stepped towards me. 'But I wish to see you, Susannah,' he said in a gentle, but firm voice. It was so different to the one that had slashed at my ears when he'd been –  
  
Stop it!  
  
'Well, phooey for you. But too bad. Conversation will only occur when both parties are willing to participate,' I said tonelessly, and lay back on my bed, digging myself under the covers. 'I'm sleeping. See?' I fake snored.  
  
I could tell he was smiling.  
  
But I wasn't. There was nothing funny about anything that was going on, no matter how hard we tried to hide it.  
  
'Susannah, please. You ran away before I could say the things that you needed to hear. Things that would bring you to you senses –'  
  
'Go,' I interrupted him from beneath the covers, lying on my side. Funny. As soon as he arrived, my emotional storm decreased to a whisper of occasional misgivings. Maybe, just maybe this could still have a chance of –  
  
Suze, DON'T.  
  
I felt no movement of my bed, but I did feel him sit next to me, where my knees and stomach made a little concave. Which was understandable. He had the ability to go right through my bed covers. No boundaries for him. Heck, he could touch my bare skin still, if he wanted to. This blanket was useless against him.  
  
God. This sucks.  
  
I shivered at the thought. See? I was still shivering. Even in the warmth of my quilt, I was still cold. Was it something to do with Jesse? See? I bet it was him. I bet me was making me shiver! Why did he do that? That was mean. Shivering's horrid.  
  
Hang, I was shivering before. Jesse is off the hook.  
  
Well, not really.  
  
(A/N: Eyes are drooping . . . hang on, I'll go have some more coke . . . lol . . . back. If I have a hangover tomorrow, I'm blaming you all. Grrr. Nah, jokes . . .)  
  
'Susannah, I refuse to leave. I live here also, you realize. I have every right to be here as you do.'  
  
'No you don't,' I said, twitching angrily. Bossing me around . . . how dare he. 'This place is legally my family's. No "Hector De Silva" on the deeds to this house, let alone this room. You're dead, Jesse. You're a stupid little ghost. So go and rattle some chains elsewhere.'  
  
A silence greeted my impulsive speech. A nasty silence.  
  
'That's out of line,' he said at last, sounding very – oh God – offended. I felt him move away, and walk to the other side of the room.  
  
Instantly, I felt like shit. I hadn't meant to say that. It just came out. I . . . I swear, I didn't mean to rub it in, that he was still dead. I didn't! It was just . . . oh God.  
  
More guilt for Suze.  
  
La.  
  
Sighing, I sat up, leaning against the bed head, feeling ashamed. Great. I hurt him already this morning, and now I was adding insult to injury, going on about his deceased condition.  
  
I'm a charmer, really I am.  
  
I looked over at him very carefully, and saw that he was – get this – glaring at me. With these really angry "how could you do this to me?" eyes. I shook my head at him.  
  
'That's right, everything's my fault, isn't it?' I said tiredly.  
  
'Susannah, no.' His gaze softened. 'Of course not. You are being absurd –'  
  
'Am I, Jesse? No, really. Let's review. You are still dead, because of me. All this happened because of me.'  
  
'No, this is Paul's doing –'  
  
'But I could have stopped him!' I shouted. 'I could have stopped all this from happening. Jesse, I took your life away! You were alive! You had a taste of oxygen, and a beating heart, and pumping blood! And I stole that away from you. It's all my fault. It really is.'  
  
'Susannah, stop being rash! You are alive, purely because I gave it to you. Because I love you, Susannah. What has happened has happened. No magic, force or power can alter the past. I know that I have – ' he swallowed, looking away briefly, '- caused you pain, Susannah. But I love you so much. These feelings for you are stronger than anything I've ever known. I feel –'  
  
'Don't!' I yelled, whipping off the bedcovers and standing up angrily. 'Stop it, Jesse. Stop saying that. You know it can't be. This can't be happening anymore. We both know it. Paul, he's ruined every chance of anything happening.'  
  
Why wouldn't he just go?  
  
Just go, Jesse . . .  
  
Jesse's eyes darkened. 'You are fixated on this defeat, Susannah. You have convinced yourself that all hope is lost. It isn't! You can find it within yourself, if you just try –'  
  
'I can't try,' I said. 'I'm all tried out. I've tried and tried, Jesse. And all I've found is reality. That I'm screwed. That Paul is going to get his revenge, or whatever. So maybe it would be better, for your safety, if you stayed away from me and just let him –'  
  
'Susannah! STOP THINKING LIKE THIS!' he snarled turbulently at me, his fists balled furiously. 'I will NOT leave you at his mercy! I will never leave. I don't care what you say, I'm not going to surrender to this fear. I know that there is a way for us, Susannah. Even if you don't. I suggest that you open your damned eyes, and see!' He bashed his fist against the wall for emphasis, and managed, instead, to make all of my drawers burst open, clothes flying everywhere.  
  
I stared at him, alarmed.  
  
'Jesse, God. How do you do it?'  
  
He stopped, his face creasing in bewilderment. 'What? Ghosts have certain powers that are triggered by anger or –'  
  
'No,' I said impatiently, 'How do you exist like that? Hanging onto a hope that isn't there. Because Jesse, be logical. Paul is the most powerful person we've ever come up against, am I right?'  
  
He gave me a steely look, but nodded shortly.  
  
'Yes. Paul powerful. Me weak. You ghost. Add all of that together, and you get a very scary outcome. That's the way it's going to be.'  
  
'And you believe it's okay to accept this fate?' he demanded, striding towards me, ignoring the clothes that were conveniently strewn across the floor, thanks to his need for anger-management.  
  
'I'm accepting it because I know that nothing can change.'  
  
'Nothing is final until –'  
  
'Until what, Jesse? Until I'm dead? If I do anything stupid with Paul, I doubt it will be long before I am like that. Okay, so you want me dead now, I get it –'  
  
'SUSANNAH!' he roared, almost in desperation now. 'This approach to the situation is not helping! You are lost! You are not thinking rationally! You . . . Dios, you . . . ' he spluttered, but groaned, and slapped his hands against himself in frustration.  
  
I looked at him. He was unbelievable. Relentless . . .  
  
'You're wrong,' I shrugged.  
  
'No, I'm –'  
  
'Shut up, you stubborn jackass! Just get out! Leave me to him, I really don't care anymore! I don't! This is how it's supposed to be. I'm just accepting it better than you, Jesse!' I screamed at him, my voice deafening and shrill.  
  
All the noise in the house stopped for about ten seconds, but resumed as if nothing had happened.  
  
Wow. The family support is blowing me away, guys . . . Don't all rush to hug me at once . . .  
  
I sighed. What was the point of arguing anymore? I knew what was going to happen. I'd worked out the whole thing, ever since Jesse had uttered those words to Father Dom, of Paul still being alive. Or whatever he was. It was all written. And it was all going to happen one way, and one way only.  
  
The look Jesse had plastered on his face, my God . . . He was furious with me for being so bleak, frustrated, desperate, forlorn, helpless . . . poor Jesse. He needs to open up to the truth.  
  
That Paul's going to win this little game.  
  
That it's Game Over, very soon.  
  
And that's the way it is.  
  
'Now,' I whispered, 'go.'  
  
He blinked, looking impassive. But what he said next, it completely threw me. 'Susannah, do . . . do you not love me any more?'  
  
I went dead still.  
  
'What?' I gasped in disbelief. He was ASKING?  
  
He repeated slowly, and calmly. But I could see his eyes, fiery, reckless and flickering dangerously.  
  
'You need to ask? Do I love you? Isn't it obvious? I mean, after everything that's happened –'  
  
'You are not answering the question, querida,' he said in a low growl, taking a step toward me.  
  
I swallowed, and shuffled back. Why was it so hard to get out?  
  
'I . . . Jesse, you know the answer –'  
  
'I am hoping I do,' he said loudly . . . another step . . . 'But I need to hear it from you. Now, do you still love me?'  
  
Love . . . it was the thing that I knew above anything else. Even if the whole world was spastic, I still knew love clearer than my own name. I knew the pain and devastation of it, I knew the joy and the passion that it elicited, and the danger of it. Love . . . my love for Jesse . . .  
  
No matter how hard I insisted that it was dying, I was only kidding myself.  
  
I could never stop loving him.  
  
Never.  
  
Never ever.  
  
I would remember love above all other things.  
  
Even if Jesse's memory faded, I'd know how beautiful he'd made me feel . . . the bliss, the ardour . . . It would not leave me.  
  
'Jesse, I –'  
  
But with a sickening jolt, I felt an explosion of pain in my skull. I cried out, and my hands shot to my head.  
  
'QUERIDA! MOVE!'  
  
I frowned, not registering the command properly. Such a pity really . . .  
  
'Now why would she want to do that?' asked a voice that I knew was horribly familiar . . .  
  
A piece of material was swiped under my jaw, and pulled me back firmly against the hard, warm chest of someone. A billion guesses who.  
  
Panic so sever soared through me then. I could feel hot breath on my neck, and arms held me tightly so I wouldn't move.  
  
Odd, I'd been so ready to accept this fate. Why was I so against it then?  
  
'Did you miss me, Suze?' Paul sneered, shoving me right against him. I whimpered like the pathetic loser I was.  
  
Oh, God . . .  
  
**************************************************************************** ********  
  
Suze has got some major denial stuff there. But yeah, oooh, Paul's made his big comeback. Oooh, come on, all together, "Oooh!" Okay, that'll do. So, what do you think? Please, long-winded reviews will earn you quick updates, lovelies!  
  
Regards,  
  
Predominantly MystAngel  
  
. . . oh, and Katie.  
  
Lol, nah. Hehehe. *Katie slaps Lolly silly.* 


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